Small For Your Age
by Will-Dannyn
Summary: Meet Liv, a de-aged girl who woke up in a bathtub. Oh, and she's supposed to help them save the world. Only, she doesn't even know how she got there, much less stop an apocalypse. Follow them as they trip over each other in an attempt to prevent chaos.
1. Chapter 1

I was cold. But I wasn't supposed to be cool. I was supposed to be warm under my electric blanket and 15 pound cat that always curls up right next to my ear. But no, I was cold. I opened my eyes, expecting to find comforting familiar darkness of my room. But I was in a bathroom. Sleeping in the tub. A. Bath. Tub.

Now, I don't normally sleep in a bathtub. Okay, I_ never_ sleep in a tub. What freak me out the most, though, was that I had absolutely no idea why I was here. Or how I got here. And then I realized that I was curled up under the faucet. Now, I'm not particularly tall at 5 foot three, but even I know I would have to stretch out in the tub this small. So it looked down at myself, and almost screamed.

Okay, so _now_ what was freaking me out most was that I was a child. I was fairly certain that I'd been 20 when I went to bed last night. Forgetting where I was, I scrambled to my feet, and promptly slammed my head into the faucet. "Shit," I muttered reflexively, the word sounding strange in my higher pitched voice. Wincing, I put my hand against my head, and willed the pounding and pain to stop soon enough. After a long while, they did, and I carefully (slowly) climbed from the tub.

Naturally, the door was locked. I shivered, more from fear then from the cold tile under my bare feet (not to mention the fact that I was only wearing a large gray t-shirt). I didn't know what to do. They didn't make self-help books on how to cope when you've been transformed into your child-self, and locked in a bathroom, no less. I was too short to do anything but barely turn the knob, so I couldn't really try to force it open. And there was nothing for me to drag over to make me taller. And I was starting to cry, and my hand was red from where my head was bleeding.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I squished my tiny body between the toilet and the wall, and wondered why they didn't make bathroom windows bigger. Could come in handy some day.

Something gently crawled across my scalp, and I jerked backwards, automatically thinking _Spiders!_ Lord knows how many of those haunt bathrooms. I groaned when my head hit the wall behind me. I've really got to stop hitting my head with things.

"Do not be frightened." A familiar voice said, no infliction coloring his deep voice. "I am merely checking you for further injuries."

I didn't say anything; I didn't trust myself to open my eyes. I didn't want him there, because he wasn't real. He couldn't be real. And if he wasn't real, then he couldn't help.

"I apologize for not being able to warn you of my intentions," he said, not sounding sorry in the least, "I was given no time." When he spoke again, his voice was gentle, almost concerned. "Are you alright?"

I snapped my eyes open at that. Glaring at the damn angel, I bit out, "Am I alright?! You locked me in a bathroom! I'm four frickin' years old! I'm tired, hungry, my head hurts, I'm cold…oh, and did I mention? I'm four!" having spent what little energy I had left on my tirade, I leaned against the cold wall (is _every_thing cold in a bathroom?).

Castiel just stared at me, dark blue bright and wondering eyes while his expression remained unnervingly blank. Exasperated, I did my best to stare back, but I was tired and couldn't hold his gaze for long. I rubbed my eyes with a tiny fist. He was silent for a long while, and I studied. He looked exactly like he did on the show, only bigger, but that was because I was smaller. The tan trench coat I love pooled around his feet as he sat back on his haunches, waiting patiently. His hair was messy, and dark, and his shoes were shiny. They were strangely distracting in my exhausted state.

The angel reached a hand behind where he was crouched, and when he brought it back around, I actually smiled. Kind of. In his large tan hand he held a little smaller, cleaner version of my favorite stuffed animal. My white dog, Hoagie. I still sleep with it at twenty, something about holding him (yes, _him_) to me at night gives me comfort. I reached a hand toward Hoagie Jr tentatively, and Castiel easily gave him up.

He stood, and I found myself shrinking. He looked like a man, yes, a cute one at that; but there was a power beneath his calm composure that couldn't be ignored. He looked down at me fearfully clutching Jr to my chest as a futile shield, and relaxed his stance somewhat. As much as an angel could, I suppose.

"We must go quickly," Castiel declared, still using his 'soft' voice, "There is not much time. I need for them to find you."

Not asking who Them were (mostly because I really didn't want to know), I got to my feet. Castiel turned on his heel and strode out the now open door. I want angel magic. I followed as quickly as I could; four of my steps matched one of his.

We passed through a crappy motel room and into the parking lot before I asked where we were going.

"I told you, they must find you," the angel replied, not slowing down for a second.

"But _where_ are they?"I persisted, struggling not to cry out as my bare feet scraped against the warm blacktop. It was a bright sunny day, and the moment we hit the sidewalk I could tell we were in a teeny tiny town.

I paused, mentally, not physically, as Castiel was going too fast for that, hesitant to ask the next question. The road we were on was lined with pecan trees, rosebuds and Japanese maples scattered here and there. So far, no car has passed us, and there'd only been two in the motel parking lot.

"So, you learned how to drive?"

"No."

"Are we taking the bus?" I asked hopefully, almost running into Castiel as he spun on his heel.

"Listen!" he didn't raise his voice, not a bit, but the sternness deepened, if that was possible, and I flinched back. "There is no time for questions. They must find you." Turning back to still-empty road, he began walking again, apparently trusting that I would follow obediently. Grumbling, and wondering why the hell they needed to find me, when couldn't he just take me to them?, I followed, but I didn't say anything for the rest of the walk. Did I mention I hate walking?

The road didn't change, but the scenery did. It went from teeny tiny town stores and houses, to farms separated by acres of tall grass. I had the strange urge to run through it. It looked taller than me. Clouds rolled lazily by, white and empty of rain. Wait, can clouds be empty, I wondered before the world went black.


	2. Chapter 2

"Beg pardon?" I said, the first time I heard my voice like this. It was higher than usual, and a big…sweet, actually. "_I'm_ supposed to help _you_?"

Sam faltered, his expression turning from disbelief to confusion. "Castiel said…"

I laughed, cutting him off. "An angel told you that I was going to help you? Did he happen to mention that I was three? Or, possibly, _why _I was three?" Or how the hell I got to a world that's not even real? I added mentally.

"Look," Dean's voice was harsh in the small car, "we just got told that we had to save someone that was stuck in a hotel room, okay? And that that person was gonna help us with…" he paused, turning to look at Sam.

"Lemme guess, saving the world, right?"

"Yeah, well, angel-boy don't know crap, does he?"

Damn, I was right. I _hate_ that! "Okay, so here it is. Last night, I went to sleep. Twenty years old, in a bed. This morning I wake up in a bathtub, and somehow my body has been regressed." I shrugged, too tired to really care about anything. "If I'm s'posed to help you, then I guess I've gotta help you."

Aren't I the philosopher?

Sam turned to say something, but I shook my head, and lay down on the soft, cool leather. Sleep sounded good right then. Sleep sounded…peaceful.

"Hell, no." I repeated, sitting on the hood of the car. "No way I'm going in there. _Ever._" I jabbed my little finger at Sam, who pleaded with me with big puppy-dog eyes.

"C'mon," he begged, "it won't be as bad as you think. Dean and I'll be there the whole time."

I scoffed. "I could get hurt. They're evil, you know." I stared disdainfully at the giant Wal Mart building, fear knotting my stomach. "Can't you go in, get clothes, and come back out?" this time I tried the puppy-dog look, but I'm not sure it worked.

"I don't know how big you are."

"Don't you wanna get some toys?" Dean mocked, grinning. "Some Barbie dolls, or a playhouse, or something?"

Dear Alistair, is there any way you could possibly give me pointers as to the best way to remove a person's innards without them actually dying? Your friend, Liv.

"Screw you," I kicked my foot against the Impala angrily.

"Hey!"

"Look, it won't be as bad as you think, promise." Sam said again. Then, without giving me a chance to threaten further, he picked me up in his arms easily, striding towards the disgustingly bright store. God, I could already hear the screams.

I couldn't watch further, so I buried my face in his shirt, and hoped that I could fall asleep. Maybe if I try really hard, I could slip into a temporary coma. Too soon, I could hear screaming and giggling of children, and exasperated voices of tired parents.

"Aww, she's adorable! What's your name, honey?" a woman practically purred, and I looked up to see a lady clerk with a wide smile.

I averted my eyes, tilting myself back towards Sam in order to seem more shy. She'd better not touch me.

"Liv," Sam answered, and I heard Dean snicker as the clerk ruffled my hair a bit.

"How can I help you, sirs?"

"We need to get her some clothes," he answered, as though the fact that I wasn't wearing anything but a large t-shirt wasn't obvious.

"Oh, yes," the woman paused, frowning as she looked me over, her eyes hesitating on the bandage. Uh-oh.

Taking a deep breath, I put on my best smile, and pronounced, "Dean let me wear his clothes today!" I leaned closer towards her and she did the same. "Daddy's are too big, 'cause he's a giant." I whispered loudly, and she winked at me.

"Well, let's get you some nice clothes, then, hm?" she directed us to the little girls' department, and we were off.

"How come Sam is the father?" Dean complained as soon as we were out of earshot.

I shot him a look. "Well, I know it's hard to believe, seeing as the probability of one of your one-night stands resulting in a child is much more likely as opposed to Sam's not having all that much sex, but I thought that it'd be easier to stick with the Sam-Daddy image."

Dean grinned when I said that Sam didn't get sexed up often, and I continued.

"Besides, dude, you already raised one kid. You get to be the fun uncle now."

"Hell, yeah, I do." He replied, elbowing Sam in the ribs. "Teach ya how to play poker, and con people outta their money." Dean winked at me, and I couldn't help but smile.

"How 'bout this one?" Sam held up _another _pony shirt with his free hand.

"Don't they have any friggin' shirts _without_ decal on 'em?" I growled as he shrugged and put it back on the rack.

"Don't worry 'bout it," Dean called from where he was grabbing jeans. "Sammy's just choosing the ones he'd wear."

"Sa…Daddy," I wriggled impatiently in his tight grasp, "put me down, yeah?"

Sam looked down at me dubiously. "You sure you're okay to walk?" his worried eyes flicked to my bandage.

I rolled my eyes. "We're never gonna find out unless you put me down." I wriggled some more for emphasis, and he set me carefully on my feet.

I was fine. Overprotective giant.

I craned my neck up to look at the t-shirts. "Can you try to find me ones that're plain, or maybe with tiny logos on them?"

"Sure," Sam scanned the colorful racks with a determined look.

I was looking at the far wall, where the disgustingly pink shoes lay waiting, when I saw the stationery section out of the corner of my eye. Watching Sam and Dean for a moment, who were arguing over the possibility of getting me a Metallica shirt, I edged away from them cautiously. I made it over to the aisle, and triumphantly shot a smirk back at them. I could really only see Sam, silly giant, but I could hear Dean's side of the argument.

"Aw, come on, Sammy, get 'er some black boots and a jacket, and she'd look awesome!"

I was perusing the coloring books with interest when I saw the Hot Rods. Maybe…."Yes!" I held a tiny blue Impala in my fist. "Victory! All we gotta do is paint it black."

"Liv!" I heard a second later. "Liv!" Dean sounded slightly worried, but not too frightened.

Sam, on the other hand…"Olivia!" he yelled, and I winced. Who the hell told him….Castiel! I was gonna kick that angel's ass, I swear. You know, when I'm back to my full five foot three, ninety-eight pound frame. Yeah, that's right. Kick his ass.

I sighed. Better to get the scene over with. "I'm right here!" I shouted, exasperated. I waved my arms for emphasis, and Sam's eyes finally found me. Like it's that difficult to spot a short girl with a grey shirt down to her ankles in a store of pink and blues. Honestly.

His long legs brought him to me quicker than I thought possible, and before I could explain he'd crushed me to him.

Maybe I would've been better off picking Dean as the dad.

"Are you alright? You're not supposed to wander off like that, young lady!" Dean's angry face came into view when Sam let me go to breathe again. He pointed at me, and raised an eyebrow. "What did you think you were….oh, wow, is that an Impala? Holy shit! Lemme see!" he grabbed it from me with an excited exclamation. "All we gotta do is paint it black, and then…" he trailed off when he saw Sam's look. He shot me an irritated look, and then went back to cradling the toy in his hands.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked, half-stern, half-worried.

"Yeah, sorry." I took a deep breath. It was suddenly feeling like a good time to cry. That's weird, innit it? "I hate shopping, and as long as the clothes aren't pink, I'm fine. I saw the coloring books, and just kinda, got…" I shrugged, the wetness in my eyes prominent, "distracted."

"You have to stick with us, alright?" Sam shook me lightly in his arms. "I'm not gonna let you down if you wander off, got it?"

I nodded and buried my head against his shoulder, feeling the tears before I started sobbing. What the hell? Sam's hand patted me gently on my back as Dean oohed and aahed over the car.

"She'll be okay, Sam," Dean reassured him, always the big brother. "Just gotta cry it out. You used to do that when you were little, did something wrong, and got scolded. It's a little kid thing."

I meant to protest, 'I'm not little, just small,', but my eyelids were closing of their own accord and I didn't do anything other than sigh heavily against Sam's warm shoulder.


	3. Chapter 3

I woke up in a hotel room, alone. Well, at least I wasn't in a bathroom. I rolled over underneath the warm covers, and listened for voices. There weren't any. Puzzled, I sat up, but nobody was in the room. Or the bathroom, as far as I could tell.

That's kinda weird. Who would leave a three year old by herself? The Winchesters', apparently.

I looked around for a note, but other than duffel bags, and a laptop, there wasn't anything lying around. Checking the window, I saw that it was night. The clock read 10:30.

I frowned. Now, Dean might leave me alone because he's knows I'm not an actual child; but I don't think Sam would. He seems to be too overprotective to allow any possibility of _anything_ to go wrong. I sighed. Sounds like my mother.

"Are you alright?"

I couldn't help it, I shrieked. Spinning around, I saw Castiel sitting on my bed, watching me. He nodded.

"Are you alright?"

Fear gone, I pointed my index finger at him and growled, "You!" I had the urge to stomp my foot, but I bravely suppressed it. "You did this to me!"

He blinked. "Did what?"

I waved my hands over my body. "This!"

Idiot.

"Ah, yes," he nodded again, as though finally understanding. "Yes, well, we thought it better for you to arrive in a form that was less…inconspicuous."

"So you chose a toddler version?" I threw my hand at him in anger. "And who the hell is we?"

"The other angels in my battalion." He was watching me with those dark blue eyes of his, expression never changing, never hinting as to what emotions hid underneath. If there were any, I mean.

"Okay, so, lemme get this straight." I paced a little as I spoke. "You want me, you and the other angels, want me to help Sam and Dean save a world that's not my own. And you thought, what better way to disguise a 'preventer o'the apocalypse' than to let her stumble around in her three year old body? Not to mention, locking me in a bathroom for an entire day." I paused to glare at him as viciously as I could. "You do realize that my actual form isn't all that intimidating?"

He smiled, but I could see it was a gesture to comfort, not an expression of pleasure. "People are looking for two brothers. Hunters. Not a father, traveling with his brother, and daughter." Carelessly, he gestured towards me. "Besides, Liv, you will be able to get far more information from people in this form than any other."

Except maybe a hooker, I thought, playing angrily with the large shirt I was _still _wearing. Although, on second thought, I'm kind of glad they didn't think to change it while I was sleeping. Creepy.

I was watching Bugs Bunny by the time Dean and Sam got back. They shuffled in the room, looking haggard and frustrated. Dean flopped down in a chair with a sigh.

"Frickin' angels," he muttered angrily.

Sam sat down at the other chair and watched me for a moment.

"What?" I said, not unkindly, as Bugs chased Daffy up an elevator.

I turned to look at them. They were tired, that much I could tell, and Sam's eyes were hopeful.

"You wanna come with us to interrogate a little old lady?" Dean grumbled, kicking his brother with a foot. "Get me a beer, too, would ya?"

"I wasn't going to get a beer," he replied as he got up.

I grinned excitedly. "Sure!" then I frowned, "Wait, how are we going to explain me? What, Daddy can't afford daycare?"

Dean smiled back, effortlessly catching the bottle Sam tossed at him. "Something like that."

**Okay, so this isn't the longest chapter ever, but I had to get it out just to get the story moving alone, yeah? You guys understand, right? My fellow writers? Please review if you've the time!!! Makes me happy on the inside!**


	4. Chapter 4

**YES, MY DEAR READERS, I RETURN. WITH A NEW CHAPPIE TO BOOT! SORRY IT'S BEEN SO LONG, WHAT WITH WORK, AND SCHOOL, AND THAT STUPID STUFF NECESSARY TO SURVIVE IN SOCIETY AND EAT, AND ALL THAT… ANYWHO – HERE WE GO! PLEASE REVIEW IF POSSIBLE. IF NOT POSSIBLE, THEN THINK GOOD THOUGHTS **_**REALLY **_**HARD, AND I MIGHT GET THEM TELEPATHICALLY. HEY, YOU NEVER KNOW!**

"Aren't you just the cutest little thing?" the woman cooed as she reached out to pinch my cheek. I shied away into Dean's shoulder. At least I was wearing something other than a large t-shirt this time. I'd gotten dressed in a blue shirt with black overalls (like hell I was gonna wear a dress), and had futilely put a fight when Sam ordered me to wear shoes. They were black, too, thank the Lord. God, what a cliché. White hair in a tight bun, too much rouge, and not enough breast support. "How can I help you, young man?" she asked Dean, ignoring Sam altogether.

"We're FBI Agents ma'am," Dean fished the fake badge from his pocket with one hand while giving her a charming grin, "and we just wanted to ask you some questions about your neighbors."

I was already bored.

I wriggled impatiently, but Dean just held on tighter. Stupid, strong arms. I oughta chop 'em off. I wonder if they make kid-sized chainsaws?

The lady, Ms. Thunmaker, invited us in to her mobile home, and sat us down on a floral couch. I was _still _ in Dean's arms. I looked around hopefully, a thought popping into my head, but was disappointed. What kind of little old lady doesn't have any cats?

I could hear Sam asking her some question, and her inevitably long tangent, which would lead to a grandchild of some sort, I was sure, but I didn't pay any attention. I wriggled back into Dean, smelling his gunpowder-sweat=leather perfume, and closed my eyes. Well, if he wouldn't let me go, I suppose I'd better take advantage of his comfortable lab.

"Wake up, you little shit," a voice crawled into my ear from the depths of my unconscious. I stirred slightly, digging myself back against Dean tighter, not liking the voice, or how close it was.

"I said, wake up!"

Thunder boomed nearby and I sat up with a start. _What a nightmare, _I shivered, hugging my arms to my chest. And then I noticed where I was.

I was in a dog cage. Yes, a dog cage. I was still three, so it wasn't that tight of a fit, but still. A _dog _cage?! What the hell? My left arm hurt and I rubbed it absently while I stared at a man who grinned at me maliciously.

"Oh, is the wittle girwy scared?" he mocked, showing his yellow teeth, and I grimaced more from disgust than fear. "Don't worry, the dwugs have wubbed off now," he winked and glanced around as though showing me off to someone I couldn't see. "I wonder where the wittle girly went in her pretty beddy-bye dweams."

God, I hated this creep instantly. If not for the fact that he put me in a dog cage, or that he drugged me, than for the fact that he was annoyingly condescending. Although, I guess its good that he thought I was an actual three year old. All things considered.

"Found you in a bathtub, I did," he continued in a sing-song voice. "Who left such a pretty little girl in a bathtub? S'not very nice. Saved you, I did." He shook his head at the injustice of it all, his dark eyes showing sympathy mixed with glee. He pointed a finger at me, and his expression hardened into a stern, foreboding look. "You do any bad things, little one, and you'll be punished, you will."

He motioned behind him, and then stood up so I could see the row of belts hanging on little hooks like tools in a garage. I felt sick.

And then I saw the row of doggie cages across from me. There were twelve, I saw, three high and four long. Probably the same on my side. There were only five girls in them, most sleeping, but there was a small redhead one cage down from mine who was staring at me with the greenest eyes I'd ever seen. They reminded me of Dean.

I felt sicker. So none of this was real? It had all been a dream? Then where the hell was I? I figured I still had to be in the Supernatural universe 'cause I was still three, but…oh, god, none of this made any sense.

"You get some sleep now, you hear?" the man gently scolded, as though I were his daughter and I was refusing to go to sleep without one more story. "You'll need your rest, little one." He pet the air in front of the cage door softly, and I imagined he thought he was stroking my hair. I shivered. How the hell was I supposed to get out of here?

Well, shit.


	5. Chapter 5

**Just to be warned, some not very nice things happen to a not-really three year old. You were warned.**

I woke to the sound of The Beatles' "Come Together". _Got to be a joker, he just do what he please. _I caught a glimpse of the redhead girl across the dirty aisle before the creepy man with yellow teeth dragged her from her cage by her hair.

"Hey!" I growled, feeling fit to do so in a dog cage. I banged my tiny palms against the metal bars, feeling angry, and frustrated and in absolute anguish as the man grabbed a belt from the wall, his grin feral. "Hey, cocksucker!" I screamed, trying to divert his attention to me. I reached through the bars (my hands are apparently small even for a toddler's), and with a little bit of prayer and fumbling, I eventually slid the door open.

I rushed out, forgetting my hand was there, and heard a snap more than felt it as the bone cracked. I yanked it out, my eyes entirely on the sobbing girl who was staring at me with awe. The belt-man spun around, tool in hand as he approached.

Well, now what?

I braced myself for…something, but was surprised when he picked me up under my arms, carrying me as sweetly as Sam or Dean would've done. Instantly suspicious, I watched as he told the girl to scurry back to her cage. She did so, tripping over her overly large t-shirt, tears coursing down her red cheeks. I tried to smile when she stared at from behind bars too small to cage her fear.

The man tsked, looking down at me. "Well," he breathed, and I grimaced, trying not to lean away, "aren't you the little troublemaker?" he carried me over to a chair, and sat down with me in his lap. I didn't like this at all.

"Do you know what happens to troublemakers?" he asked, and I squirmed, not sure if he wanted an answer. He didn't. Without another word, he flipped me over facedown onto his lap and yanked my t-shirt up. Before I got the breath to protest, the belt slammed down onto my thighs.

I tried to claw my fingers into his pants, tried to scramble away, but his arm was too tight. It held me securely. I bit, scratched, and kicked, but didn't budge him an inch. Finally, I hung my head down. I was exhausted.

And he just kept slamming the belt down for what seemed an eternity. I cried, tears and snot rolling their slick way down my face and onto the cement floor, but I didn't plead. No begging, or placating, or anything of the sort. I would _never _ask this asshole for mercy. Because when it was my turn, I wouldn't have to bestow any.

When I threw up, and blacked out, the belt was still raining fire down on my lower half.

The next time I woke, the first thing I noticed was the little rainbows decorating the rim of every light. Damn crying. I was lying on my stomach in my cage, and I didn't even contemplate turning over. _My _cage. See how easily I adapt? Disgusting, I know.

"Castiel," I croaked, my voice little more than a whisper. "Are you out there?"

No answer.

That's okay. I didn't expect one immediately. Or ever, if I was to be entirely honest with myself. But I don't like to be _too _honest. Some mystery is always nice, even if it's with yourself. Anyway.

I really wanted some water. All that crying and throwing up really takes a lot outta you, though, and I just lay my head back down, pleading with Castiel in my head. I didn't think it was possible, with the heat coming off of my behind and legs, but I was cold. I drifted into a restless sleep, my dreams filled with the last couple of drug-induced days with Sam and Dean.

"No!" a terror-filled shriek jerked me awake, and I scrambled to the front of my cage to see the belt-man towering over the redhead. He must really like her, he always takes her out, I thought disgustedly.

"Hey!" I tried to scream again, but it came out grated and hurt like hell. I banged my not-broken hand against the cage door, angry. I've never felt this helpless and pissed off before in my life.

He ignored me this time as he raised the belt, lashing it down. She screamed and I felt something inside of me break as I watched a full grown man beating a child with a belt. If I could hurt him, if I could just get my hands on a gun.

Roaring filled my ears, and I realized it was my blood pounding in my head. And then the man turned with surprise to look at me, blood spilling over his putrid lips.

I smiled. And then frowned. What? Had I done that? Sweet!

And then I saw the bullet hole. Damn, and for a second there I thought I had psychic, shoot-people-without-a-gun powers.

"Are you alright?" a familiar voice asked, and the overprotective giant stepped over to the redhead.

"Sammy!" I croaked and Dean's face appeared at the door of my cage.

"Hello, sweetheart," he crooned, and I knew that he had no idea who I was. Well, shit. He got the lock open, and the door swung out slowly. "My name's Dean. I'm not gonna hurt you okay?"

I held my arms up and he scooped me into his. I buried my neck against his familiar jacket, and smiled into the leather.

"Are there any more?" a different voice asked from down the aisle, and Dean and I both turned to see John standing there with a shotgun.

John. John Winchester. Was alive. And breathing. And not in Hell. What the hell?

**Dun dun dun! Yes, that's right! John Winchester, baby!**


	6. Chapter 6

I watched as one by one, all the girls were given back to their respective parents, sobbing and clutching to mothers' arms, and fathers' faces. Sam was holding me gently, as though I would break, and I hated the fact that I had to sit on my ass. It hurt.

The silence in the car when they realized I was last and that nobody had claimed me was deafening. And awkward.

Until Castiel showed up.

"Gah!" Dean scrambled backwards from his perch on the hood of the Impala, fries flying everywhere when the angel appeared. "Shit man, why do you always have to do that? Gotta get you a cat bell," he muttered, picking up the salvageable fries from his shirt.

"Dean, language," John reprimanded, regarding the angel with sullen eyes. "What do you want?"

Castiel turned to me.

"Finally!" I said, the first words I'd spoken since they picked me up. "What the hell took you so long?" Three pairs of Winchester eyes were staring at me in amazement. "Right," I sighed, "I'm not _actually _three." I shifted in Sam's arms to look at the silent angel. "You wanna explain it? I've already done it once, you know."

"She's been transported here from a different world," he started right in. "She is 21 years old in mind, but 3 years old in body. We thought that'd be the best way for her to be disguised."

They were still staring.

I sighed again. I had a feeling I was going to be doing that a lot. "It's true," I offered, not really knowing what else to say. "I'm here to save the world." I threw my arms out dramatically, hitting Sam in the face. "Well, I'm here to help _you_ save the world, but by extension save the world…so, yeah."

"Are you alright?" Castiel finally broke the silence, his dark eyes seeming concerned. Yeah, right.

I growled, "Am I alright? I got beat with a belt until I blacked out, you stupid, no-good, guardian of nothing! Do you have any idea how much my ass and legs are hurting right now? Huh?" I struggled to get out of Sam's grasp, but he just held me tighter, which was my goal, so I turned into his shirt with tears already on my face.

"We can get you some aloe," Dean offered, licking the salt off his fingers. He looked at his father, and I wondered why. The man nodded his affirmation, and flicked his eyes to the car.

"Cass, do I need to stay with them for now?" I asked, getting the question they all wanted to ask out of the way.

"Yes," he replied in that toneless tone of his, and then looked up at the sky. I guess he's getting beeped. He nodded to the four of us, and disappeared, the sound of flapping wings following him.

I turned back into the giant, and leaned into his warmth. He was so warm, it was a comfortable feeling. My legs were cold and throbbing with unwanted pain, and my head hurt from all my crying and throwing up, and my throat was sore, and I _still _have to figure out how the hell I'm supposed to save the world. I hate it when my throat's sore.

A few hours later (according to the dashboard clock), I woke nestled against…the leather seat. Blinking slowly as neon lights filled my sight, I took in the dark parking lot, the convenient store, and the bar. My bet was on the bar. Gingerly I managed to get the door open and slipped out, confused as to why I was left there alone. Surely John wouldn't let a three year be unsupervised. Surely Dean wouldn't let anyone near his car without a babysitter. Right?

The cold air felt good on my legs; although the rest of my body regretted the large t-shirt I was once again wearing. Oh, well, better than being locked up in a dog cage. That was my new low, the one thing I'm going to compare to everything else that happens. Nothing could be worse than that, right? Knock on wood.

Somehow, I guess people are drunker than I thought; I slipped into the bar without anyone saying anything. Standing on tiptoes, I scanned the pool tables first. No one. The floor was sticky with a mass of stuff I don't even want to think about, and I picked my footing as I peered into the dark corners. Creepy guys? Check. Slutty girls with old men? Check. Gay guys trying hard not to get beat up? One, watching the pool players with an interested eye.

Dean, John, or Sammy? Nope.

I stood there for a few moments, not really sure where to go next. Oh, right, the convenience store. The cold night air had barely begun to caress my skin when Sammy bore down on me, scooping me up easily. God, he was so _warm_.

"Are you okay?" he asked, scrutinizing me for injuries, dark eyes worried.

"Why the hell would you go into a bar?" John demanded, he and Dean huddled near the car, the latter holding a brown bag.

I shrugged as best as I could while being smothered by a giant, "S'only place I thought you guys would be."

Dean smirked slightly as he bit into a doughnut. "Kid makes sense."

John shot him a look, then turned back to me as Sam approached the car slowly, presumably so as not to jostle my poor injured self. "You don't go anywhere unless one of us is with you, got it?" he pointed a calloused finger at me, gaze stern.

"Don't leave me alone, then." I retorted, feeling brave for some ridiculous reason.

Dean choked on his doughnut, powder spraying from his mouth. Sam wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Excuse me?" the eldest Winchester stepped closer, eyes pissed off, if not angry.

I sighed, rolled my eyes, and shifted a little closer to Sam. Not because I was afraid of John, just 'cause he was warm. Yeah. Sounds good, doesn't it? "Just leave a note, or something, okay? I don't want to wake up alone; it's not a nice feeling." I smiled tiredly at John, "I won't go looking for you if I know where you are, right?"

John must've been awfully tired, because he ran a hand over his face, and sighed. "Right."

I leaned further back into Sammy. I think he's my favorite. Mostly because he's the most willing to hold me, and he's so damn warm.

One fight down, one fight won. A hell of a lot more to go.


	7. Update AN

Okay, so this isn't a chapter, but this is an update. I realize that it's been awhile since I've put a new chapter up, but I'm going to be revising some of the plot lines to make it easier for me to continue writing the story. Things will mostly happen the way they did in the first six chapters, but there will be some changes, and I hope that you'll continue to stick with me. Please respond if you have any comments or questions, and thank you for giving me a chance.


	8. Chapter 7

When I woke this time, my legs still hurt, but so did my head. I rolled over to find myself face to face with Castiel. I sat up quickly, hissing as the pain in my butt intensified. We were in a hotel room, that much I could see, and we were sharing the only bed. I cocked my head to the side. Something was off.

I looked down at the angel. He was sleeping, and I'm pretty sure they're not supposed to do that. He was wearing the infamous trench coat, and his black hair was mussed from being slept on. I had no idea what to do. Should I beat the crap out of him for everything he's put me through, or just sit there and watch him? He was fairly…beautiful like that. At peace. Calm, and I could see no emotion, but it wasn't as harsh as an entire lack of emotion…just quiet with sleep. Relaxed. It was kinda freaking me out.

Why was he sleeping? Why were we in a room with only one bed? Where were the Winchesters? That's a tongue-twister.

I reached out a hand to shake his shoulder, but his eyes fluttered open before I could touch him. God, they were _blue_.

"Hey," I whispered, feeling the need to speak softly.

"Hello." He sat up, his deep voice calm, but not stern like before. He attempted to fix his hair with one hand while rubbing at his sleepy eyes with the other. It was disconcerting. It was…human.

"Do you know who I am?" I ventured, scooting closer on the bed.

"Olivia." He replied instantly, turning to give me a look of confusion. "Where are we?"

I threw my hands up in the air. _Great._ "Aren't you supposed to know that, angel boy?" I fired back, all wonderment of Castiel gone in a blink.

He shook his head slowly, not in a negative way, but I could tell he was thinking. "They must have banished me." He got off the bed to survey the room in a slow, aggravating walk with his hands behind his back like a schoolboy on a field trip.

I snorted. "Banished you? Like what, you're not an angel anymore?"

"Of course I am still an angel. I am merely being grounded to earth."

I nodded. "Whatever. Look, where're the Winchesters? Aren't they supposed to be here?"

Castiel turned on his heel and strode towards me, cupping my face with one giant hand. "You have not met them yet, Olivia." He peered into my eyes, as though searching for something.

I gasped, a loud intake of breath, and scooted back, his hand still on my face. "No," I shook my head violently, "No! There was the drug-induced dreams, and then the dog cages, with the little redheaded girl, and the aloe and, and John." I looked up at the angel in alarm. I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. He began to shake his head _no_, but I closed my eyes so I couldn't see. "NO!" I started shaking, and I realized just how tired I was. "There was Wal Mart, and the little old lady who didn't have any cats, and the belt, and the fries…and the hospital? I never went to the hospital?"

"I found you in the bathroom when I woke up here," Castiel's voice was soothing and I let myself lean into it. "I carried you to the bed, and fell asleep."

Wrapping my arms around myself, still clad in that stupid _STUPID_ gray t-shirt, I shook my head. I didn't understand. What had happened? Why would someone do that to me? It didn't make sense.

I felt the harsh fabric of the trench coat as Castiel sat on the bed, and wrapped his arms around me. I could tell he'd never really done this before, because he was silent for a long time, just swaying back and forth slightly, holding me tight. I didn't want to go to sleep. I didn't want to wake up, and be somewhere else, and have them say, _what are you talking about? You've been here the whole time._ I couldn't handle it. But the sweet silence, and the weariness of everything, and the smell of Castiel (cinnamon and dirt), overwhelmed me, and I succumbed reluctantly to the bliss of nothingness.

----------------------------------------------

"Would you like a booster seat?" I heard a strange woman's voice asking kindly. I struggled against the bonds of sleep, even though I was still wrapped in warmth (and cinnamon).

"No, thank you." I heard Castiel's polite reply, and then he began walking, and the woman started chattering about how adorable his daughter was, and _aw, somebody must've forgot their nap, huh?_ Castiel just let her talk, and I wondered who his daughter was. Could angels have children? I didn't think so.

The creak of wood, and the _sploosh _of leather being sat on, and I was being readjusted so that my back was to his chest.

"You are awake now." His voice was at my ear, and I sleepily jumped, my eyes popping open.

"Nice way to wake someone up," I grumbled, not admitting that he was right, and I'd already been awake. I could see we were in a restaurant of some kind, the lights were bright, and _yay_ we'd gotten a booth. I don't like the tables, they're always out in the center, and I feel like the people in the booths are using us for their entertainment.

"I thought perhaps you might be hungry." He continued, ignoring when I jabbed him in the rib with my elbow, not-so-accidentally.

I tilted my head back to look up at him, and he looked down, giving me a slight smile. Damn it, I couldn't help but return one.

"Are you hungry?"

"What can I get for you?" the waitress asked, and then spotting me, cooed, "Well, look who finally woke up! Are you hungry, sweetheart?" Why do all waitresses feel compelled to call me sweetheart? It gets really annoying.

Castiel said nothing, still smiling.

I sighed, realizing he's had very little contact with humans, and would probably have absolutely no idea how to handle a waitress. Or a taxi driver, for that matter.

"Hmm," I said, grabbing the menu from his hands, and pretending like I couldn't read, but was pretending to be able to read. "I would like some strawberry French toast, please." I announced a moment later, happy that they had some. "And some milk."

The waitress scribbled for a second, giving me another grin and a "Good choice, hon." She turned to the angel, who was watching her interestedly. "And what would you like?"

"I don't require sustenance, ma'am." He replied quite politely, and handed her back the menu.

She shot me a bewildered look, and I grinned playfully. "He means he jus' wants some coffee right now. He likes to use funny words, huh?"

She nodded, and sashayed away, throwing another puzzled glance over her shoulder.

"Maybe we should've got it to go, ya think?" I mumbled, kicking a foot listlessly.

"After this, we are going to see Bobby, Dean, and Sam so that you may help them." Castiel announced, reading the dessert menu.

I groaned. Great, this'll be the third time I'm gonna be introduced to them. I'm getting tired of this. Wait…"How am I going to help them, exactly?"

The angel glanced down at me, and shrugged. "I do not know. Of that I was not told, only that I had to bring you to them, and watch over you."

The waitress brought over his coffee, and set it down, giving him a sweet smile. "Cream, or sugar?"

He stared at the cup for a long minute, and then looked over at her, confusion clear on his face. You could tell he'd never seen coffee before, and had no idea how he took it. "Oh, no, thank you. I prefer my coffee…undiluted."

"Right." She muttered, throwing me a wink and scurrying off.

"Hey, Cas," I watched the other diners with interest as a thought occurred to me. "Where'd you learn how to shrug?"


End file.
